


pain is holy / pain heals

by worry



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Painplay, Re-upload, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9929849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: He wants and wants it—paradise,wants Odin to believe. The reality is that Odin is on his knees for a follower of Titan, and Gil has his hands tangled in the hair of aheathen.





	

It's still true—he would  _never_ give himself over to a follower of Titan like  _this,_ would never allow himself to be taken by one like  _this,_ on his knees— _pride faltering—_ for someone who prays to destruction. But it's becoming increasingly apparent that Gil isn't just another follower of Titan; Odin has met many in his life, but none of them have been tempting, none of them have been  _alluring_ like Gil. On the outside Gil has the image of the perfect Titan follower, but Odin knows that inside there's something  _off._

 

The other followers don't want him. 

 

Odin pities him.

 

He's on his knees for a follower of Titan. He thinks it should be degrading. Instead, however, it's  _freeing._ No one will ever know about this. Odin is confident in his abilities, knows exactly what to do to make Gil dishevel and become exactly what they both know is his  _true_ state: a beggar, who  _needs and wants and needs_ and never stops. Titan will love him. Titan will accept him. He wants and wants it— _paradise,_ wants Odin to believe. The reality is that Odin is on his knees for a follower of Titan, and Gil has his hands tangled in the hair of a  _heathen._

 

Beautiful.

 

* * *

 

"Odin—"

 

"I-I  _mean it._ You c—can do wh—whatever you wa—want to me. Sc—scratch me up,  _bi—bite me,_ I don't care."

 

He feels Odin hold himself back; desperation is brewing in both of them. It is Gil's turn, however, to take action.

 

"You like pain," he notes, and gives Odin an acknowledging scratch, right down his rib-cage. Odin's skin is cold; his bones poke out just slightly, and as Gil runs his fingers down them, he thinks about delicacy, thinks about Odin as something sad, pitiful. Then it stops. Odin is his equal. Odin and Gil are in this never-ending spiral of touch. It will never be over. Odin, despite being death-like, keeps him alive.

 

"Yeah," Odin replies. "S—so  _give me so—some._ "

 

Gil nods. He digs his nails, claw-like, into Odin's shoulder. It elicits a sharp gasp, which Gil takes as Odin's way of asking for  _more. More. God. More._  A beautiful hymn.He presses them deeper as he thrusts up slowly, instinctively. It's so instinctive that it scares both of them. Neither of them knew that Gil was capable of this; he's a  _doctor,_ he takes pain away, he heals. Gil heals. His fingers are wet with Odin's blood. Gil heals. Odin's pride has left him now— _faster—_ and all that Odin can do is— _please_ — breathe, begs and noises turning into a hymn again. Another hymn. The kind of hymn that would make Titan himself shiver.

 

Gil returns his hands to Odin's hips, and—oh—oh— _oh._ His vision is like the light he saw in his rebirth. This would be perfect.  _Perfect._ Odin would have no choice but to give himself over to Titan. To Gil, to the followers. 

 

Odin's lack of belief is what makes him so interesting. So—so _perfect._

 

Gil takes one fingernail and slides it across Odin's back, pressing it again so hard that blood starts to poke at the wound, and then he turns vertically and makes another scratch. Imagines it like surgery, like as he fills Odin up, he is replacing the heathen part of him with something worthy of belief.

 

On Odin's back is a bright, bloodied  _T._ T for Titan.

 

 _Amen_.

 

* * *

 

"C—contrary to po—popular opinion," Odin says, falling down onto the bed next to him, "I—I'm not an idiot."

 

"I never said you were," Gil replies, reaching over to touch Odin's shoulder, so gently, touch healing. It's cyclical; he heals Odin, and comes crawling back for more.

 

"I—If you're th—thinking I'm gonna be—believe in Titan n—now that it's on m—me, I won't."

 

"Hm," Gil hums, staring into Odin's eyes. "Sad."

 

"But, um, I—I — I think it's k—kinda, I don't kn—know, hot."

 

"You think that was hot?" he laughs in response. "What happened to your pride?"

 

"H—hey, I st—still  _have_ it," Odin tells him. "I just th—think it's funny."

 

"How is it funny?"

 

"It wa—wasn't about T—Titan, was it? Not re—really."

 

Gil gives him an inquisitive look.

 

"I—It was about wanting m—me. As y—yours. Not T—Titan's." Odin's voice lowers to a whisper. " _Just y—yours."_

 

"Maybe," Gil admits. "I'm not sure."

 

"You're n—not the p—person that I m—met after our sh—ship crash, Gil. Not an—anymore."

 

Gil's heart picks up, pounding in a rhythm so familiar. He ignores Odin, closes his eyes, and tries to focus on Titan. Just Titan, and not Odin's body.

**Author's Note:**

> I must've deleted this yesterday, but I have no recollection of doing it. :P So yeah! I wrote most of this at 1am so it's not very good, but... yeah. Pls tell me what you think!


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